


wake up and live

by coatsandjumpers



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shota, Somnophilia, all i write is porn, im literally never writing anything except pwps again, it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coatsandjumpers/pseuds/coatsandjumpers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To sleep is an act of faith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wake up and live

The sound of Connor’s breathing is steady, loud in the stillness of the darkened room. Haytham wonders how his son can be such a vicious fighter in the day, instincts honed and senses alert, but such a deep sleeper at night. Well, he muses, the boy is growing. After spending all his energy fighting his father while he’s awake, it’s really no surprise that Connor is so exhausted by nightfall. Besides, it’s not as though Haytham is complaining. The shadows of the room layer everything with the hush that accompanies night, but the blackness isn’t absolute -- Haytham can just make out the contours of Connor’s face, the light straining through the windows slightly illuminating his profile. In these rare moments of quiet, Connor seems peaceful, and Haytham can’t help but think that his son looks beautiful in these last hours before sunrise.

Haytham shifts towards the boy, rucking the sheets to do so. Moments later, he lets himself trail kisses along Connor’s shoulder, pushing the blankets off to expose them both to the slightly cool air. Connor doesn’t even shift, and his breaths continue, as steady as before. It’s not long before Haytham finds himself pushing Connor’s legs apart, impatient; he blames the boy for that. His self-restraint seems to fray around his son, and Connor is nothing but demanding. Soon, Haytham has one finger inside him, and he doesn’t hesitate to add another -- Connor is completely relaxed and still loose from the night before. When Haytham starts moving his fingers, in, out, curling them to search for the right spot, Connor shifts slightly for the first time but settles down almost immediately, his breaths evening out only to hitch when Haytham crooks his fingers perfectly. 

Haytham marvels at Connor’s ability to sleep through all of this. He’s clearly not unaffected -- the boy is hard, and Haytham revels in the fact that he can bring Connor to this state, desperate and needy, without his son even being awake. The oil is a nuisance but Haytham slicks himself with it anyway; Connor seems ready enough but he’s always so tight, and Haytham has no wish to hurt him, not when he’s not awake to enjoy it. A few beads of oil drop onto the sheets, staining them. Haytham doesn’t even notice, focusing instead on pushing into Connor slowly, painfully slowly. It’s a test of his rapidly diminishing self-control, but he holds himself back, trembling slightly from the effort, because if Connor awoke now, it would be a shame. There’s something to be said for being able to feel Connor’s lips against his, to hear “Father, please”, but Haytham’s enjoying this too, the way Connor seems younger while sleeping, vulnerable and open to Haytham’s desire. 

The loss of Connor’s active involvement is a small price to pay, especially when he’s nearly as responsive as usual, even while asleep. By now, Connor’s face is clearly flushed, and Haytham can hear the occasional whimper from his son, high-pitched and broken. Haytham lets out an exhale of relief when he finally feels Connor’s hips, flush against his. The boy is close to consciousness now, Haytham knows it; he’s hovering right below the surface, not quite awake but becoming increasingly needy. Haytham thrusts, savoring the feel of Connor around him, and the boy keens, his cock leaking pre-come. The last of Haytham’s restraint snaps with the sound, and he fucks into Connor with abandon, giving into his impatience at last. Quiet “ah’s” escape Connor in time to Haytham’s movements, the sound getting cut off at the end by his hitches of breath. Haytham knows he’s angled perfectly when Connor finally wakes with a cry, crossing from sleep to complete consciousness in seconds. The confusion in Connor’s expression is momentary, quickly replaced by half-lidded pleasure and parted lips, Connor’s full moans finally sounding next to Haytham’s occasional groan. 

It’s been only moments since Connor awoke, but he’s already moving his hips to meet Haytham’s, fucking himself more deeply on his father’s cock, his back arching as he hits that perfect spot, white-hot pleasure racing through him. Haytham puts a hand on Connor’s cock, spreading the drops of pre-come until the sound of skin-on-skin is filthy and slick. Connor throws his head back at the sensation, his hips bucking towards his father’s hand.

“Connor.” His name cuts through his lust, and Haytham’s voice is rough, deepened by desire. Connor’s already on edge; he can’t last long, not like this, not with Haytham, but he just needs a little more, and he whines, unable to convey how much he wants with words.

“Come for me, boy.” 

It’s a command, and it never crosses Connor’s mind to disobey. He cries out, his mind blank with pure pleasure, the intensity of it making him clench the oil-stained sheets in his fingers. His come gets on both of them, and everything feels slick and hot and messy. Haytham growls at the feel of Connor tightening around him, and he fucks into him again before coming with a low moan, one hand tangled in his son’s hair, the other pressed possessively against Connor’s hip. It takes a few minutes for both of them to settle, but the air is cooling again, and Haytham forces himself to get up and clean them both off.

When Haytham returns to bed, they don’t speak, but Connor shifts closer to his father, his back pressed flush against Haytham’s chest. Connor’s frame is small compared to his, but Haytham knows it won’t be long before his son surpasses him in height. But those are thoughts for another day, and for now, he lets his arm fall around Connor, the action instinctive and sweet. Moments later and the boy’s breathing is even again. Haytham falls asleep to the rise and fall of Connor’s chest, legs entangled, both of them content to dream until the dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> So I felt like Connor was 14/15 in this fic. The document in which this was originally written is named "what have i done", which I think sums it up pretty well. 
> 
> to my fav trash, this is your fault


End file.
